Kill Me
by Dawwnee
Summary: A series of drabbles inspired by a Tumblr Meme. Each drabble was written for a specific blog whom submitted the 'Kill Me' to my ask box, which was request to know how my Ciel would kill each character.
1. Bard

_One little sentence was all it took to plant a seed of doubt - he'd said so himself. And, once that seed was planted, all it took to allow it to grow, to spread its roots, was time to think. Time to mull over things, perhaps a few more little words to act as fertiliser, to speed the process along. Sebastian was perfectly ready to tend to that garden just as he tended to the garden within the grounds, easily dropping what could be seen by anyone else as a joke, whispering to the Earl about betrayal and corruption moments after shielding him from the flying shrapnel caused by yet another of his chef's attempts at cooking._

_The little mistake, not uncommon, slowly became more in the child's twisted mind. The trust he had in the veteran faded, and his presence made his master uncomfortable, edgy, snappy. He couldn't take it anymore. This was his home, his manor, he was not meant to feel threatened here. _

_His friendship with Mey-rin and Finnian was no longer worth keeping him alive for. After all, for all he knew Bard would just as easily try to kill them, or Elizabeth, or Aunt Frances, or Uncle Alexis, or Edward, or… anyone. Too many risks and a traitor wasn't worth it._

_And so, the Earl, restless and taunted by nightmares and voices, had risen from his bed, pulling the pistol out from under his pillow and making his way quietly out of his room, down the hall, the stairs, navigating his way to the servants' quarters where he began checking each door - the manor, after all, had been built to house more servants than the six he'd hired throughout his time as the family head._

_By the time he eased open a door that bared positive results, the child was shivering from the chill, his own thoughts and the voices in his head given enough time to make certain this was the only way he could feel safe again. The chef was asleep in his bed, Finnian, Tanaka and Snake in similar states of rest in the small room - but Ciel's mismatched eyes were only fixed on the tallest of the blondes. _

_Squeezing through the gap in the door, the young Watch Dog crept towards the end of the bed, feeling his heart race with anxiety - the man could be waiting, prepared for him. He had to do this quickly. Before the man had a chance to even awake._

_Tightening his hold on the loaded gun, he lifted it, aiming carefully, right for the man's temple, and squeezing the trigger. The sudden break in the silence and interruption to the incessant ringing in his ears made the boy jump, the startled spasm making him drop the gun as the other servants stirred to find their friend dead and the beginnings of relieved laughter on their Master's lips._


	2. Vincent

_It was the demon. So he kept telling himself. The demon that had resided itself within his father's body, now driving him to try hunt down his own son. That it was his father fighting back that had caused that first shot to miss anything vital or fatal and allowed him to make a run for it. There was no advantage for him here. His father had spent more years in this manor than he had, despite its reconstruction, and no doubt knew of every nook and cranny and hiding place in here. He was wounded, slowed by it, and leaving a trail of blood behind him, easy to follow._

_Easy prey. It was painful to struggle out of his jacket, the bullet wound sending pangs of increased pain back through his trembling body with the movement. Wheezing, he pressed the material over the wound in his side, whimpering softly at the pain as he forced himself onwards._

_He had to finish this. Whatever was in his father was out to finish what it had failed to do three years ago, and, even if the human gained control of himself again, there'd always be the threat of a relapse occurring again. Next time, he may not be prepared, lulled into ease by the mere fact his father was alive and with him again, that he was no longer to bear the weight of responsibilities on his own._

_Either way, he'd be alone again eventually. Better sooner than later, when he had a chance to get re-attached. Vincent was meant to be dead, anyway. He died three years ago, in that fire, and was put six feet under. It'd be doing the man a favour… Little could be worse than having a demon… inside of you like that. To not be yourself because of it… And it was killing him slowly, all over again…_

_Yes, this was better. Now he just needed a way to do it. His own gun was in his room, beneath his pillows, or locked away from sight - and Sebastian was the only one with the key. He had no weapon on him. Knives were in the kitchen, and he was closer to the library-… The library…_

_Removing the jacket from his side, allowing the blood to seep and drip to the floor again, the boy stumbled for the library doors, struggling to open them enough to squeeze through in his weakened state. The pain and blood loss nearly made him topple over a number of times as he tried to locate the right bookcase, tugging and leaning until one wobbled. He ducked away and froze, watching the furniture stabilise before creeping close again, dropping to his knees and tucking himself behind it, one shoulder slipped into the gap between the back of the bookcase and the wall. The latest victim of his clumsy servants, yet to be repaired by Sebastian - thankfully._

_There was no point holding his breath as he heard the door open further and someone else step into the room. No point hiding his presence at all. The only reason he had for quieting himself was so he could hear the man's approach, waiting until he was certain he was in front of his hiding place before he jerked sharply, bodily pushing himself into the gap, feeling the furniture wobble and start to tip forward as his body prevented it from rocking back and stabilising against the wall, the child shoved himself back a little more, moving as quickly as he could to push off from the wall and give the tipping wood one last shove to hurry it along._

_He could have gagged at the crushing sounds that joined the heavy thud, tears leaking from his eyes as he leaned heavily on the lower part of the tipped furniture, his week body jolting and trembling with quiet sobs and groans of pain._

_"I-I-I'm s-sorry…"_


	3. Rachel

_The moment the letter arrived in the mail was the moment Ciel decided this was for the best. If people like that got their hands on her, the woman would go through Hell before they ended it. He'd be a horrid[er] son and Watch Dog if he allowed them to have her. It wasn't just a matter of pride, it was an urge to keep her suffering to a minimum._

_He'd spent days considering it. Thinking it over. Working out how best to do it. How to do it while avoiding the woman discovering he was behind it, and hating him for it. _

_Poison was the only answer he could see. Something that wouldn't take weeks, months to take effect._ Rosary peas, _Sebastian had whispered to him, practically crooned in his ear one night when the stress was keeping him awake. He'd never heard of them, but the demon had quietly told him about their tropical habitat, and the 'mysterious deaths' that surrounded the ingestion of the fruits or seeds - which had been used in jewellery before. Death would take anywhere from two days to a week, but was still one of the fastest killers. He'd hounded and hounded the demon, refusing to settle down and sleep, until he answered the incessant question - _Was it painful_? _Would she suffer_? Yes. Yes, his beautiful, precious, miraculous mother would suffer. It would not be an easy death, but it was better than shooting or stabbing her, or breaking her neck, for his guilt - according to the demon - and would be faster than arsenic or other poisons._

_It was the best solution. The only one. Have Sebastian mix the needed amount of this rosary pea into his mother's tea and stay by her side as she grew ill, suffered, and died, or have her snatched away from him, stolen, tortured for God knows how long, suffering even worse before the blessing of death greeted her. The only option…_

_He'd slept no easier that night, or any other, and the evening Sebastian quietly informed him he'd gotten ahold of the fruit, Ciel had ordered him from the room before bursting into silent tears that continued throughout the night. He'd not slept. The morning he'd offered his mother a new, rare tea Sebastian had acquired for him, his voice had cracked, trembled, failed him, and he'd hurriedly had to pass it off, claiming he felt he was perhaps catching a cold, that his throat was a little sore. She'd fussed over him as his demon went to prepare the tea that would end her life, and he'd quietly allowed it, appreciating, while he still could, what was left of her affections._

_When the butler returned, he'd not even bothered looking for a silent assurance that his tea hadn't also been laced with the poison, simply lifting it to his lips and taking a hesitant sip - putting the delicate cup down as his stomach flipped and writhed in guilt. Were he not so convinced he deserved this, he would have excused himself from the room, feigning illness, but instead he chose to sit, and watch, and smile as his mother drunk her tea, praising Sebastian for the find, even as her son's cold, icy heart begun to crack._

_In the days that followed, Ciel had stubbornly remained by the woman's side as she grew ill, as bloody vomit and diarrhoea plagued her, making her dehydrated, dropping her blood pressure. Even after a violent hallucination had driven her to lash out at the little Earl by her bed side, the boy had still refused to leave the room, quietly nursing the growing bruise in a corner until the hallucination faded and the woman calmed. He'd watched, nearly bursting into the broken sobs of a child, as her delicate form spasmed with seizures. So many times he'd held his breath, fearing that her lungs would fail her during the fits, that her asthma would flare up horribly and end it - because, he knew from experience that there was little worse a sensation than not being able to draw breath._

_Three days after their last breakfast together, the woman's organs failed, another two days and she was gone. Quietly, now, in her sleep, as her equally exhausted son dozed beside her. Sebastian had given him a gentle shake to stir him, and just as gently informed him that she was gone - quick to promise he'd not touched her soul. Stiff, sore, starving, the young teen had pushed himself to unsteady, unused legs, perching himself on the bed beside her and reaching out to lightly place his fingers against her cheek._

_The chill that seeped into his fingertips was the straw that broke the camel's back, and Ciel Phantomhive burst into tears and defeated sobs, head dropping to her still chest as trembling hands clutched uselessly at her bedclothes. Gone. Gone for good. By his own hand._

_There most as well be two devils in this room._


	4. Madam Red

_She'd lost it. Something had snapped and, so suddenly, the woman had turned on him. She'd lashed out at him, out of the blue, across their chess match. What he'd said to drive her to strike his cheek so hard he wasn't sure - their conversation had turned sombre, serious, morbid at some point as they played, eventually fixing on his mother and father. _

_A touchy subject for the both of them, it seemed. And, as Ciel reeled from the sudden blow, the woman shoved the table and chess board aside, driving her small nephew to practically fling himself from his chair, away from her grasp, away from the deadly hands of the surgeon. _

_She was screeching at him. Screaming something. But the boy's ears had shut the words out, mind instantly flying to whatever survival instincts he had. Scrambling to his feet, the boy bolted out of arms reach, blue eye darting about the room in search of anything he could use to his advantage. Twisting to look over his shoulder, the boy bit back a yelp at the flash of silver that he just managed to duck, scrambling away._

_He needed something, anything to defend himself with. A candelabrum, left by Sebastian, caught his attention, and he dove for it, whirling around with the metal item only to have pain flare across his torso as the woman's knife drove into his chest. Toppling over beneath the woman's weight, the little Earl's entire being reeled from the attack, and as she yanked it back, free from his ribs, instinct took over._

_Grip tightening on the elegantly crafted metal, he swung his arm up, feeling the strike jolt his arm as it hit it's mark and the dead weight of his unconscious Aunt crumble atop him, making breathing all the harder. Hacking and choking as blood started to pool in his lungs, the child shoved at the body, wiggling and squirming until he managed to get free._

_He didn't even register his butler's entrance into the room, his eyes fixed on his Aunt Ann as the last breath faded from her body._


	5. Alois

It was his fault. _Or so Ciel kept telling himself, because _his fault_ was easier than _my fault_. And Sebastian kept crooning that Alois Trancy was the one who killed his parents. Burned his home. Had him thrown into what most as well have been the pits of Hell - and was as close as he'd ever get. All _Alois'_ fault. And he'd make him fucking pay for it. For every moment of torment and humiliation and pain he suffered because of what that little bastard done._

_He was sick and tired of this. Tired of the weight of responsibility and society resting upon his shoulders. Tired of the constant reminders of all he'd lost. Tired of the reminders of all he'd gained. Just... tired. Three years was an awfully long time for someone who was waiting for death, ready for it to come. It was too long, too much time to simply allow people who had thought him dead to grow close to him all over again - it'd just be harder for them should this go on any longer._

_All he needed was to end Alois Trancy. End him and he could finally have his own end, and Sebastian his reward for his faithful service. At times, when the boy sat back and considered ways in which he could do so with the least amount of repercussions on the remainder of his family, friends and servants, he had... the strangest flashes of memory. Of an Angel atop a bridge, of flowing water... Sebastian, leaning close to him, with the use of only one arm... Strange memories that gave the sense that he'd 'been there done that'..._

_It wasn't hard to push that aside, though, focus on what he knew, who he needed to get his revenge upon. He couldn't make it obvious. Couldn't give anyone a reason to look into the sudden death - and he wanted this done quickly. The last thing he really needed was for the Queen to get suspicious before he, too, vanished. No questions. Simply accepted._

_Trancy was unstable. More so than him. And while it wasn't exactly common knowledge, it seemed anyone close enough was at least somewhat aware of it - like his Uncle... It wouldn't be hard to convince them that there was nothing... suspicious about the death... Something simple, easy, that, like his parents' death, was __  
_Trancy_'s fault._

_The only issue was how to go about doing it with his own hands. He'd written to _Lord Trancy_, asking if a visit would be fine, and couldn't help but smirk as he read the eager positive response days later. The plans were made, and when the day came he had Sebastian prepare all that was needed, disguising his master's chosen method for this murder into decoration for his outfit, quietly explaining to him how to get quick access to it._

_The visit had been... painful. The Phantomhive Earl acted no different towards the younger boy, keeping the other Earl's mind at ease - at least not letting on any clue that there was something funny going on. When the butlers eventually left the two on their own - Ciel certain his earlier order for Sebastian to do all within his power to keep all the Trancy demons away from them once Ciel made his move, and to get him out of harm's way the moment it looked like he'd fail would be followed - Ciel had eased into friendliness, subtly untangling the mock decoration, and requested a game to play._

_The other boy had responded to the request eagerly, jumping to his feet to go fetch his chess board from somewhere within the room, and as soon as his back was turned the younger boy stood hurriedly, shifting quietly towards the window to loop one end of the rope around the handle on the window usually used to open it - double checking that it was indeed locked - and securing it there. _

_He'd turned around just in time, hiding the rope behind him as the blonde tilted his head at the other's change of position, to which Ciel simply politely claimed he was appreciating the extensive grounds of the manor. The other huffed, with what the blunette silently scoffed must be irritation that attention was not focused completely on him for once, and approached the window, casting a glance outside before turning his back on the smaller boy, the demand to return to the game _he_ requested cut off sharply as the other grabbed him suddenly, yanking him back, closer to him, by the back of his vest and hurriedly looped the noose around his neck, yanking it tight._

_Quick. Quick. He had to be quick. He didn't have long - Sebastian couldn't hold off five demons forever. He'd shoved at the taller boy, practically threw himself against him, until he'd knocked the boy to the ground - and that was where the real panic had started. He just had to keep his weight on him. That was all. Keep his weight on the struggling blonde long enough for the struggling to stop. Asphyxiation was a horrible sensation, a horrible way to die - and perfect for this little bastard._

_He'd latched on, stubbornly kept his hold as the other struggled and writhed and coughed and wheezed, kicking at him, thrashing, clawing at the thirteen year old and at the rope drawn impossibly tight around his neck. Slowly, with the Phantomhive Earl jerking sharply at the nearing signs of whatever struggle was going on outside, the blonde's movements eased, steadily stopping, both left wheezing - Alois from the forced blockage of his airways, Ciel from the exertion and battering he'd received trying to keep the other low enough for escape or breathing to be near impossible. He sat back, seated on the other's stomach, lifting a trembling hand to straighten his eye patch, watching with a disturbing fixation as the life escaped the elder with each strangled breath. Each attempted inhale, only to discover nothing there, no relief as air flooded his lungs. The panic hadn't faded, but the betrayal in the blue depths was just as obvious - he'd not seen this coming._

_A twisted smirk. "Sebastian's hungry, Trancy, starving - I had to get my revenge before he snapped, didn't I?" He shifted, planting one knee on his defeated opponent's chest, putting his weight on the spot even as he yanked sharply on the rope, pulling it up as his weight pushed the other down. "Hurry up and die already." he growled, yanking sharply._

_Finally, those eyes fluttered closed, all forms of resistance gone, leaving the conscious boy to yank and toy with the rope until he was certain the other's airway was completely shut off. Another few moments, and he watched with silent satisfaction as the continued attempts at breathing ceased completely - and yet had no time to savour the sight of his defeated enemy before something had grabbed him, smashing the window above and making a speedy get away._

Angry over nothing - we both die no matter the end.


End file.
